ITALY
_Mid-November 1917 to April 1918_
It was in excellent spirits therefore that the move was begun, in spite
of the obscurity of the military situation in Italy, and the prospects
of immediate fighting of the unpleasant rearguard type. Our cheerfulness
was amply justified, and the journey itself proved to be one of the most
magnificent holidays the Battalion ever had. It was accomplished in two
trains, which followed each other at about twelve hours’ interval: the
first containing half Battalion Headquarters (Commanding Officer,
Adjutant and Transport Officer), Transport, and A and C Companies; the
second containing the other half of Headquarters (second in Command,
Assistant Adjutant, Medical Officer and Intelligence Officer), and B and
D Companies.
The first half of the Battalion marched out of Tinques at 9 p.m. on
November 23, 1917, and entrained at Savy, leaving about midnight. The
second half left Tinques at 6 a.m. the next day, and pulled out of Savy
about 9 a.m.
The route followed by both trains on the journey was the same, and the
following names will indicate the line taken: Arras, Achiet-le-Grand,
Albert, Amiens, Dijon, Pierrelatte, Avignon, Marseilles, Nice, Voghera,
Piacenza, Bologna, and thence north to the Mantua and Este line.
The total time spent on the journey was six days. The experiences were
very much the same in both trains, which ran most of the time within a
very few hours of each other; the account of one train’s week will
therefore suffice to cover the history of both.
On November 24 the train passed, in bright sunny weather, through the
Ancre Valley and Albert, which we had last seen on our way out of the
hideous Le Sars sector about a year previously. Thence through Amiens,
and on south towards Paris, round which we skirted at dusk.
The train was unusually commodious, there being enough of the usual
cattle-trucks for the men to allow of something narrowly approaching
comfort, while the officers were three to a compartment, so that if one
slept on the floor, all of them could get a comfortable night’s rest. In
addition, there were a certain number of flats, which were not needed
for our transport vehicles, but which afforded superb observation on
sunny days. Comfort became almost a fine art. Every time the train
stopped the men seemed to have a meal, as not only did the cooks achieve
marvels on the cookers, which were at full blast all the day long, but
also there were numerous _halte-repas_, at which hot water was always
available, and, often enough, tea or coffee. As for the officers, they
lived in that luxury which is only achieved by mess cooks when there is
no facility for it. Adequate supplies had, of course, been laid in
before we started, and the chances of buying eggs and other things on
the journey were frequent. The nights were cold, but the cold was kept
out as far as possible by braziers standing on tins in the trucks, and a
carefully distributed rum ration.
The second day broke dull and raining, and this continued until evening,
but a brisk, cold, sunny morning found us at Pierrelatte in the Rhone
valley, and a glorious day followed of fine open country round the
Rhone, with sudden sharp cliffs, offshoots of the Maritime Alps, and
far-away views of blue-grey mountains, shutting in the rich plain which
forms the delta of that great river. And so we passed through a charming
landscape, made the more charming by the very friendly faces and the
waving handkerchiefs of the inhabitants, to Avignon, with its castle
glittering in the sunlight.
It was here that trains began to lose men, as from now onwards stops
were always of somewhat doubtful duration. We came into Marseilles that
evening, with the streets and harbour glowing with lights below us.
Early next morning (27th) we reached Les Arcques, where the men had
breakfast. Then followed the best day of the whole journey. The weather
was absolutely perfect, and sitting out on the open flats we rattled
along the glorious coast of the French Riviera. Everywhere the people
waved to us, cheered and threw us oranges, a compliment which we
returned by throwing cigarettes to the French colonial sentries, who
grinned and flashed at us their rows of perfect teeth.
By the afternoon we had crossed the frontier, where at Vintimiglia we
detrained the men, and took them for a short, sharp march through the
town and along the sea-front.
The journey from now onwards became far less interesting. There were
interminable stops at out-of-the-way stations; and signs of the disorder
in Italy, the result of the Caporetto disaster, became more frequent. At
Bologna, where all the officers were very kindly provided with
lunch-baskets by the Italian Comando di Tappa, refugees crowded the
station, and that most pitiful spectacle was presented of strings of
Italian deserters, chained together. It was clear that firmness was to
be the order of the day.
From Bologna we went northwards, crossing the river Po, and the two
trains reached their respective destinations. The first arrived at
Bevilacqua at 7 p.m. on November 29. Here the most hopeless confusion
reigned, owing to the entire absence of any R.T.O. or orders of any
sort. Endless interviews with the magnificent station-master took place,
but as he could understand neither English nor French, and we were none
of us able to speak Italian, the interviews were entirely fruitless.
Eventually, however, having dispatched an officer to the R.T.O. at the
previous station, we received orders to billet in Bevilacqua for the
night, and were presented with an Italian interpreter.
The second train reached Este at 8 a.m. on November 30, where the
remainder of the day and that night were spent. Orders were received to
march next day to Agugliaro, where the two halves of the Battalion
joined hands. For the next four days we marched every day and all day,
billeting during the nights in the villages of Bosco di Nanto,
Villafranca and Marsango, and eventually reaching Villa del’ Conte on
December 8. Lorry transport was very scarce during these marches, and
the greatest difficulties were experienced in moving our 1,800 blankets
from place to place. Our troubles in this respect were increased by
having to move an unusually large number of valises, as we were at this
time in possession of no less than forty-three officers. Twelve of these
officers, however, were now dispatched to the base, and this relieved
the congestion considerably.
Our arrival in Italy had been of a very different character from the one
we had pictured. There was no dramatic deployment from the train to stem
the Austrian onrush; as, indeed, there appeared at this time to be very
little onrush to stem. The Italians were evidently making a firm stand
on the Piave, a stand which became all the firmer as the knowledge grew
that elements of the French and British Armies were at their backs in
case of need.
Throughout the week spent in Villa del’ Conte the Battalion was at two
hours’ notice to move to support the Italian army; but in spite of
expecting hourly to receive such orders, nothing momentous occurred
until the 14th, when we were moved some twelve miles to the village of
S. Croce Bigolina, which lies about six miles west of Cittadella.
That this village rivalled in popularity the much-beloved village of
Beauval in France, is astonishing and almost unaccountable. The billets
were bad, crowded and scattered. There were no shops. Footballs were
scarce, and grounds still scarcer. On the other hand, the inhabitants
were most friendly, if not entirely honest, and the weather was perfect.
It must surely have been those heavenly blue skies which entered into
our souls and made us think so well of S. Croce.
The Division now formed part of the XIXth Corps, which was in reserve to
the Italian Army, holding the line astride the Brenta valley in front of
Valstagna.
Here a formidable attack by the enemy was confidently expected, as
although the original onrush was being successfully stemmed by the
Italian forces and those portions of the French and our own which were
now in the line, it was thought very probable that the enemy, by using
the remainder of the reserves collected from the Russian front, might
try to increase the weight of their attack and break through from the
mountains into the plains. In the event of this attack being delivered,
the Division had orders to hold a reserve line in the mountains, which
lay about Conco, Rubbio and Campolungo.
Thorough reconnaissances of this line were therefore most necessary, and
some of us were sent on almost daily excursions in a F.I.A.T. lorry to
that coldest of all bleak spots, Rubbio. The journey occupied some two
and a half hours, along one of the most amazingly constructed roads in
the country. Hewn for the most part out of solid rock, the road climbed
1,800 feet from our billets to Rubbio, zigzagging up the mountain, with
a cliff on one side and a sheer drop of about 100 feet on the other.
The difference in the atmosphere between S. Croce and Rubbio was almost
paralysing, and few of us will forget the frigid sensation and biting
wind that assailed us on getting out of the lorry at the last-named
village.
The line consisted of a rock-hewn fire-trench, sited on the forward
slopes of a succession of hills or, rather, mountains. Communication
with this line would have been most difficult, had we occupied it, for
mule-tracks were rare, and none too good when found. To our relief,
however, no enemy attack developed, and we were left in peace at S.
Croce, where the Battalion spent its third Christmas away from home. In
spite of these continual visits to Rubbio and constant hard field
training, we had not allowed the time to slip by without a thought for
Christmas festivities, and when the day arrived every man was able to
eat turkey and plum pudding to his tummy’s content, helping it down with
more than sufficient _vino_.
This latter, nasty as it really was, had become a most popular tipple,
and orderly room had for some time past been much troubled by its
existence. It was not so much that it was a potent beverage, as that the
men were unaccustomed to it, and thought that it could be treated in the
same manner as the French wine. Only when a number of men found
themselves in the throes of no less than twenty-eight days’ field
punishment No. 1 was _vino_ shown the respect to which it had proved
itself entitled.
With the exception of some snow falling at the beginning of January, the
weather continued perfect, and we considered our Italian campaign one of
the better things in life, to which the only drawbacks were no E.F.C., a
most irregular mail, and a succession of the very coldest church parades
in a field at Villa Jonoch.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end at some time, and this
particular one ended on January 24, 1918, when the Battalion took an
affectionate farewell of the natives of S. Croce and marched off towards
the Piave, though it was not until a month later that we arrived there.
The billeting area in which we found ourselves, after two days’
marching, was really far better than the one we had just left, though
the general atmosphere was perhaps not quite so friendly. D Company, at
first, revelled in being the sole British occupants of the village of
Casacorba, while Battalion Headquarters and the remaining three
companies had to content themselves with the rather inferior billets of
Albaredo. Later, however, sufficient accommodation was found in
Casacorba and the adjoining village of Viciliese to house the whole
Battalion, and Albaredo was evacuated.
Our stay here was chiefly notable for a most virulent attack of
“outposts” which seized the higher command, and the question whether it
is better to fight the post or the piquet line was more than thoroughly
debated. Suitable antidotes were soon found in the shape of plenty of
football for the men, and a very limited allotment of Rome leave for the
officers.
A further move was made on February 14 to Paese, which lies some six
miles west of Treviso. This area had been very much troubled by constant
bombing raids, carried out by the Austrian and German airmen at night;
in fact, the hospital in our village had been hit a few days prior to
our arrival, but during our occupation of Paese no further bombing of
the village took place, although Treviso continued an almost nightly
target, with the result that large numbers of civilians were evacuating
it, and the place was becoming a town of ruins.
The knowledge that we were to take over the line on the Piave had now
become common property, and on February 27 the Battalion relieved the
21st Battalion Manchester Regiment, 91st Brigade, 7th Division, in
support positions on the Montello.
A few days later (March 3) we took over the front line, which for the
most part consisted of a series of trench-posts, situated at intervals
of 40 or 50 yards along the banks of the river. Our right included the
village of Nervesa, and the posts here were dug out of the asphalt
promenade on which the fashion of Italy besported itself in times of
peace. The breadth of the Piave in front of us was at least half a mile,
and consisted of numerous channels, dotted with islands, some of which,
lying about 50 yards from our bank, we occupied, but the flimsy
character of the bridges leading on to them made their occupation
uncertain.
The current of the river varied according to the channels. In the main
channel it ran at a rate of at least ten miles an hour in time of flood,
and never dropped below three and a half miles an hour at summer level.
During our fortnight’s stay here the river became one broad, rushing
torrent, owing to the heavy rains, and any attempt on the part of a
patrol to cross the river was generally out of the question; but on one
night, after the river had gone down considerably, a patrol did succeed
in getting across, though it should be described as a feat of endurance
rather than a military accomplishment, as the men were so cold when they
reached the other side that it is doubtful whether they could have used
their arms had this been required of them.
The river, being unfordable at this time, deprived us of any means of
getting at close quarters and really making our first acquaintance with
a new enemy.
His shooting, so far as artillery was concerned, was decidedly good, and
on more than one occasion he troubled us not a little with it. Nervesa
was naturally his most popular target, and about the time of our
departure he was rapidly demolishing it, chiefly by means of incendiary
shells, with which he was most successful in setting the largest houses
on fire.
We had not been in the sector a week before rumours of our being moved
reached us. These rumours proved correct, and on March 14 the Division
was relieved by the Italians. Preparations to ensure a really
well-organised relief have no doubt been made by all units during the
war, but whether any relief was ever prepared with such hyper-efficiency
as this particular one may be doubted. Certainly “eyewash” never figured
more prominently, or with so little effect; but our friends the Italians
were not nearly so much impressed as had been intended, and our relief
by the 163rd Italian regiment proved to be quite a normal proceeding,
the greatest good-feeling existing on both sides.
The French, who had been on our left in the M. Tomba sector, were also
withdrawn from the line about this time, and it became clear that both
armies were intended to take over a new sector in the mountains in the
neighbourhood of the Asiago plateau.
The march westward was commenced on the 15th, and after a series of long
treks on exceedingly hot days, interspersed with a few days’ rest at
Piombino, Borgoricco, S. Georgio dell’ Pertiche and Busiago Vecchia, we
eventually reached S. Urbano on April 3. This village, charmingly
situated amongst the foothills which lie between Vicenza and Verona,
harboured us for just two weeks, while preparations were made for
equipping ourselves suitably for mountain warfare.
Practice attacks were delivered on all the neighbouring hills, and
several days were spent by officers in reconnoitring the line on the
Asiago plateau.
Our transport was increased by the arrival of some twenty-five
additional pack-mules, and although these threatened to displace all our
heavy draught horses, G.S. waggons and cookers, we were eventually
allowed to retain them all.
On April 17 the Battalion started on its move to the mountain line,
halting for nights at Grumo, S. Maria (just east of Thiene) and Mare,
which lies at the foot of the mountains that guard the Venetian plain
from the North and rise from a series of low foothills, almost sheer, to
a height of 4,000 feet. Military roads zigzagged their endless,
wearisome way backwards and forwards, and hardly discoverable tracks led
up in slippery, stony twists to the summit.
The day of our first journey to the top (April 23) gave us an excellent
taste of the changed conditions before us. The ascent was made in single
file up one of these mule-tracks, and occupied some four and a half
hours; the system of progression adopted being twenty minutes’ climbing
and ten minutes’ halting.
The actual climb to within a few hundred feet of the top was made in
bright sunshine. Then abruptly came the change. The sun was clouded
over, cold air seemed to come from nowhere, and a slight drizzle began
to fall. In such conditions the climb was finished, and the road past
Tattenham Corner, with a slight dip in the crest line, followed. A
little farther on was a small level space, perhaps 600 yards long and
half as many wide, between the masses of rough rock piled up on either
side. In this space and round the edge of it nestled the hutment camp of
Granezza. Here, and in offshoots of this little plateau, were
concentrated two battalions of Infantry, Divisional Headquarters,
Brigade Headquarters, a cinema, canteens, dumps, and all the other
paraphernalia of a Division in the field.
A more depressing spot than this was when we arrived can hardly be
imagined. The drizzle continued to fall, the road was a mass of mud,
water dripped and oozed from the wooden huts, whose tarred-felt roofs
were covered with dead branches as camouflage. Isolated fir trees,
stripped of all their lower branches, stood here and there around the
camp, gaunt and miserable, like sentries on a rainy night in the line.
Dirty patches of unthawed snow lay among the rocks, and a motley
collection of wet and muddy soldiers—English, French and Italian—flowed
backwards and forwards along the grey, sticky road.
This, however, was Granezza in one of its worst moods. The next day,
though different, was little better, for rain which was falling in the
morning changed by mid-day to a full-dress snowstorm, accompanied by
thunder and lightning. Snow fell for two or three more days, and all our
time and energy were concentrated on clearing roads and tracks. But this
was the last of the snow, and was succeeded by a period of bright
sunshine, alternating with violent thunderstorms, which gradually
changed to the glorious weather of August, September and October. During
these months the sun shone all day, there was very little rain, and the
heat was not sufficient to be uncomfortable by day nor the cold by
night. The particular charm of this glorious weather lay in the fact
that we had been assured that on the plateau there were only twenty-five
fine days in the year, of which seventeen had already passed.
With the improvement in the weather came equally a difference in the
country, which had at first seemed so desolate. The area taken over by
the British troops was divided by nature into two sectors, each of which
was held by a Division. Two roughly parallel roads, about four
kilometres apart, led to the front line, each feeding one Division’s
front. These roads were joined laterally by two other parallel roads,
the one about two and a half, the other about six kilometres, behind the
line. All intervening spaces were filled with rough rocky mountains,
devoid of trees on the south side, but thickly wooded on the north side.
The country gradually fell away towards the front line, which ran rather
more than 1,000 feet below the level of Granezza. The line itself, cut
partly in solid rock and partly in chalk, ran for the most part just
inside the trees, which here stop short on the edge of the Asiago
plateau. The plateau, about four kilometres wide, consists of undulating
grassy land, treeless, but dotted here and there with farmhouses and
tiny villages, all more or less damaged by shell-fire. About a kilometre
off lay the Austrian front line, well out in the open, and away behind
it the mountains rose up in a tremendous barrier 6,000 feet high,
protecting the Val Sugana. To all of us it seemed a position that no
troops in the world could capture, and we little guessed during the long
months that we faced those mountains, that in the end we should
ourselves successfully attack and overcome them.